


Winning Your Heart

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anger, Awkward Conversations, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frustration, Happy Ending, Injury, M/M, Romance, Winning And Losing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Marco is angry and frustrated that he will miss the important Champions League match against Lissabon, but when his teammate Erik visits him unexpectedly a couple of hours before the game to tell him something important, both of them find out that there is more to win than only games and cups...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/gifts).



> For my dear mariothellama, because you need some comfort tonight. I hope that this fluffy little story will console you at least a little bit, my dear! :-*
> 
> This is just a hopelessly romantic Durmeus story that popped up in my mind today when I searched for a way to comfort my dear friend, I hope you will like it, my dear readers, please let me know! I wanted to post this before the game and I wrote it this way on purpose, because the important message here is that you can lose (in the horrible case that they will lose) and yet win something that is much more important.  
> There might perhaps be a sequel if you liked this one, depending on the outcome of the game tonight. <33

Another injury again.

Marco kicks the door shut behind himself with an angry growl, throwing his bag against the wall of his hallway. It is only a small relief and it passes very quickly – too quickly for the frustrated midfielder - but it is better than nothing, and Marco watches the bag hitting the ground with grim satisfaction.

Marco doesn't know why fate has to be so cruel, kicking him in his ass again and again, even though his new injury feels more like being kicked in his balls by someone wearing football shoes – those with the long spikes – than like being kicked in the ass only. The blond doesn't even know which number this injury has, he has lost track on the numbers over the last couple years.

All the blond footballer wants to do is shout and scream in frustration that he will miss another important match – again, a match where his teammates would need him so badly. Marco is so tired of watching his teammates play from the stands that he feels sick to his stomach by the mere thought of it.

The annoying sound of his doorbell startles him, and he spins around his axis with another angry growl that sounds like the hiss or the roar of a lion about to defend his territory against another lion.

Fate has not only kicked him in his balls, it even doesn't grant him the small luxury of licking his wounds in private and undisturbed, because the unexpected and unwelcome visitor standing before his door is no one else than his teammate Erik, and Marco knows his younger teammate well enough to not cherish the stupid hope that he will just leave again if Marco tries to pretend that he didn't hear the bell.

Erik knows that he is there, has probably watched him coming home, and Marco pulls the door open that forcefully that Erik stumbles backwards with a startled cry, waving with his arms through the air to not lose his balance.

“What?!” Marco snaps at him, not bothering to take his time for a proper greeting. “Don't you have better things to do before the game tonight than to get on the nerves of other people?”

Shit, Marco feels the slight sting of his bad conscience when he sees Erik's rosy cheeks paling, but he is too stubborn to apologize for his rude behavior. Instead he puts his hands on his hips, blocking the entrance in the vain hope that Erik will just turn around and leave him alone if Marco lets him stand on the stairs.

Erik of course doesn't turn around and leaves, he can be as stubborn as Marco is, probably even more. “Obviously not,” is all he says, jerking his head in the direction of the corridor visible behind the blond. “Can I come in?”

“Will you leave me alone if I say no?” Marco asks, and Erik shakes his head. “No, I won't. There is something I need to tell you before tonight.”

Marco quirks an eyebrow at him. “Something that is so important that it can't wait until after the game?”

“Yes.” Erik lifts his chin up and purses his lips like he always does when he is determined to stand his ground and not back away. He has mirrored Marco's posture and put his own hands on his hips like he always does it on the pitch, and Marco feels another sharp sting in his chest because he wants to be there together with Erik tonight so badly.

“You could have texted me what you want to tell me,” Marco says, not yet willing to give in.

“No, I couldn't.” Erik looks at him without flinching under Marco's annoyed stare, and when the blond realizes that Erik is serious and that he won't just turn around and leave him, he finally sighs and steps to the side.

“Fair enough, come in. But I'm not in the mood for a long talk, so make it short and quick.” Marco turns around on his heels and walks over to his living room, not bothering to look whether or not Erik is following him. “Close the door please!” is all he throws over his shoulder, crossing the room and slumping down on his couch. He fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and starts to scroll through the news, not really interested in them, but he somehow feels the need to make clear that he isn't really interested in what Erik wants to tell him.

It's not that Marco doesn't like Erik. Quite the opposite, Marco actually likes Erik too much for his own good, and he was so happy that they could finally play together again, hoping that this would bring them closer together and form a new bond between them, a bond that would even lead to more than just being friends one day perhaps.

But this damn injury has messed up with his dreams and his hopes – again – like so many other injuries before this one, and Marco isn't really in the mood to talk about football and Erik's excitement about the forthcoming game when he has to stay behind again and watch the game from the stands.

“I am sorry, Marco. I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy and bother you.”

Erik has entered the room to sit down on the couch as well, careful to leave at least fifty centimeters of space between them. He kneads his hands in his lap, and Marco watching him furtively from the corner of his eye asks himself why the younger one looks so nervous as if his news was a truly important one. A cold shiver runs over his spine all of a sudden when the thought that Erik might want to tell him that he will leave Dortmund after the season unexpectedly pops up, and he swallows and tenses up with fear.

“Just spill what cannot wait until tomorrow,” is all he says though, hoping that his voice won't give his thoughts away.

Erik takes a deep breath and clears his throat. Damn it, it must be something truly serious then. Marco cautiously peers at him from the side, his phone forgotten in his lap.

“I came here to tell you that I wished it would be me being injured instead of you, Marco. I really wished that you could play tonight, and that I would be the one sitting on the stands with an injury if it only meant that you would be a part of the team tonight. It probably sounds pathetic to you, but I needed to tell you that before the game is over, because I don't want you to think that I say that because we have lost and I don't want to be a part of the losing team, or because it is easy to say something like that when it is clear that we have made it to the next round because we won.”

Marco gapes at Erik with his mouth hanging open, stunned into surprised silence at this pathetic speech which actually isn't that pathetic for Marco at all. On the contrary, it is the most heartwarming and loveliest speech he has listened to in a rather long time.

“And why would you want that, Erik?” he finally stammers when he has found his tongue again, his gaze softer than it has been only a couple of minutes before the younger one's confession. “You have been through two serious injuries yourself over the last year. Why would you possibly want to be injured again instead of me just to see me playing tonight? You're a professional footballer, and a really good one, your striving must be to be fit and play in every match, Erik.”

Erik blushes and chews on his full pink bottom lip. “Yes, it normally is.”

“I see.” Marco isn't sure that he really understands what Erik is trying to tell him. “And why would you rather stay behind for my sake then, Erik? You're a great player, and our team needs you just as much as they would perhaps need me.”

Erik's blush deepens, and he looks so adorable all flushed and with this sheepish, pleased smile that shows his dimples. Marco so wants to kiss him, and he balls his fists and digs his nails into his palm to keep himself from reaching out for Erik, holding his breath as he waits for the younger one's explanation.

“Thank you, Marco,” Erik whispers, and Marco has to admire him for keeping eye-contact although it is clear to see how much it costs the younger one to not avert is gaze and keep looking at him.

“I wouldn't want this to happen for anybody else than you, Marco. I would want to do that for you only, take your injury and stay behind, I mean,” Erik meanders his way through his confession. “I would gladly take your injury if only I could because I can't see you being unhappy, looking so sad about another missed chance. All I want is you to be happy and play, and I know that I shouldn't feel this way as a professional footballer, but I do because you mean so much to me, have always meant to me, right from the start when we first met. I like you a lot, I mean I really like you, and if I could, then I would...”

 

***

 

Erik can't finish his sentence because the man he tries to confess his love to without actually saying those famous three little words has grabbed him, almost dragging him in, and before the brunet even knows what's happening to him, Marco's tongue is buried deep in his mouth, making it impossible for him to utter any other word.

All that comes out of his mouth is some kind of startled mewl, but Erik thinks that he doesn't need to explain himself further, because Marco kissing him like that can only mean that he has gotten the message and knows what Erik has tried to tell him.

Erik at least thinks that this must be the reason why Marco licks his way around in his tingling mouth with his tongue, stroking and teasing Erik's tongue until his head is spinning and all he can do is to kiss Marco back with all he has and every fiber of his being.

Their position is awkward and uncomfortable with Erik halfway lying on the couch and halfway sitting in Marco's lap, the blond's smartphone poking against his thigh, but Erik doesn't really care, too happy that the blond is finally, finally kissing him.

There is something else poking against his right butt cheek too, something that isn't less harder than the phone, only so much more tempting. Erik of course knows that now is not the best time for thinking about having sex with Marco for the first time, but it is flattering that his clumsy love declaration and one single kiss – a truly amazing kiss, but only a kiss nevertheless – has such an effect on the man of Erik's dreams, making him hard and aching for Erik within the blink of an eye.

His own jeans have become rather tight and uncomfortable during their kiss as well, but he is far from complaining about that, too happy that Marco eventually kisses him as passionately as he has dreamed of for so long, and Erik stops thinking and focuses on kissing Marco back and enjoying how perfect his long fingers feel as they card through his hair while they tell each other without words how they feel for one another, proving that mouths can tell so much without using spoken words.

Marco's gaze is tender and soft, his beautiful amber-green eyes dark with emotions and desire when he finally draws back from Erik's thoroughly kissed mouth. Erik can't help but grin stupidly blissfully all over his face as he returns his gaze.

“I would do the same for you, Erik,” the older one says tenderly, stroking his heated cheek. “I am frustrated and angry and sad that I can't play tonight, but I'd rather watch the game than seeing you sitting on the bench or the stands tonight. I wouldn't do that for anybody else than you, Erik, but I am really glad that you will play tonight, and I will shout my throat sore for you.”

Erik feels touched, and he sighs happily and kisses Marco again. Their second kiss is as wonderful as their first kiss was, and when they part again to look at each other, Marco strokes his face and asks him with a tender smile: “Will you play for me tonight, Erik? Will you play only for me tonight?”

Erik smiles back at the man he would go through hell and back for with all the love he feels for him.

“Of course, I will do that for you, Marco. Tonight I will play for you, and for you only.”

“Then I will be a happy man tonight,” Marco says, sealing his words with another tender and passionate kiss.

Erik knows that for sure that he will be a happy man tonight as well, because no matter whether his team will win or lose tonight, he has finally won Marco's heart and his love, and this is the best win in the world.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sealing Our Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193726) by [Blue_Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night)
  * [Kissing You Better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10509123) by [Blue_Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night)




End file.
